Boundless Roads
by Kovecs
Summary: Sol is a former member of the Thalmor who has fled to Skyrim after he was discovered worshiping Talos. He seeks to start anew in the wilds of Skyrim, but is captured in a familiar ambush and sent to the chaos of Helgen's dragon attack. But after escaping, the world is ahead and the hope adventure on the roads of Skyrim is boundless. These are Sol's stories.
1. Chapter 1: Bound

Boundless Roads

 **Chapter #1: _Bound_**

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Time and place didn't matter to me at that point. My head spinned as my eyes opened groggily. My hands were bound. The itch of the ropes both burned and tickled my raw wrists. I felt the sway of a carriage as a greyish light flooded my vision. Through my blurry eyes, I saw white snow against green pines. The world was covered in the fog of a winter morning. No, not winter, I realized; Skyrim.

We rode down a poorly paved path in the center of a wagon train. There were three others in the cart with me. My head tilted low, I looked out from under my brow to study my fellow prisoners. Across from me sat a young man who looked like the most typical Nord one could imagine. He was brawny, blonde-bearded, with long hair adorned with a single braid. He wore armor with a dark blue sash tied around it. I recognized the uniform, but in my current state I couldn't place it. Next to the soldier, a scrawny looking fellow with dark mutton chops twitched within his bonds. He was pale, but I could not discern whether it was from fear or illness. The third prisoner sat to my right. I stole a quick glance, noting that he was not only bound, but gagged as well. He was different than the other two, he wore furs and sat upright. He was a noble, that much was clear.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." The soldier said, looking at me. He had a sense of optimism about him, despite our dire situation. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He nodded towards the sickly man.

I made no reply; my mind began to replay the events in which he stated as my memory became more clear. It started with my name: Sol. I was starting to remember things with a greater sense of clarity. I recalled sprinting through the hills near Bruma. I knew the Thalmor were tracking me, but I thought that I might find a hint of refuge in the wilds of Skyrim. The Thalmor were relentless though, especially when they discovered one of their own is a Talos worshiper. My fellow High Elves can really be quite awful when they put their mind to it. Thinking back to my pounding heart, aching lungs, and sore legs made me tired at the very idea of the chase. I didn't even remember getting caught. I must have been knocked unconscious before I even had the chance to know what was going on around me.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the thief said to the soldier. The fact that they were both bound must have given the frail man false courage against the man with twice his size. "Skyrim was fine until you came along," he continued. "Empire was nice and lazy. If it hadn't been for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He then turned to me, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. "You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The soldier responded before I had the chase to retort.

The carriage picked up speed as the driver flicked the reigns and yelled: "Shut up back there!" The driver didn't even bother to turn his head. By his uniform and stature, I pegged him as an Imperial grunt. This was just another day of work for him.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The thief said as he gestured to the bound noble, defying the driver's order. The noble only grunted a response through his gag.

"Watch your tongue," the soldier scolded, "you're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." That name, I knew it. He was a war hero, if my memory served - which at this point, I did not have the utmost confidence in said memory. As I had travelled through Cyrodiil, enroute to Skyrim, I had heard the mentioning of his name more and more. But my mind - at that time - had been focused on my own escape.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief exclaimed in exasperation. "You're the leader of the rebellion." The bloodshot eyes of the thief were met with a strong, harsh gaze from Ulfric. He didn't even need to speak to state his authority. The thief's presence diminished even more; it was not the Jarl's gaze however, but his own realization. "But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?" He asked the question, but he knew the answer.

"I don't know where we are going, but Sovngarde awaits." The soldier replied with solemn understanding.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The thief began to shake even more, so much that I wouldn't have been surprised if he pissed down his leg. He looked around frantically, fear ruling his gaze. I watched him, still remaining silent.

The soldier looked at him with surprising kindness in his eyes. "Hey," he said calmly, "What village are you from horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" The frightened man snapped.

The soldier maintained his sense of calm, with wisdom that was beyond his years. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," he stated.

The thief exhaled and look down for a brief moment. He shut his eyes and then opened them to meet the man beside him. "Rorikstead," the thief submitted, "I'm… I'm from Rorikstead." The fear had not left his eyes, but he had calmed down a bit.

On the horizon, not far from where the carriage rode, a small town rested within the pine trees of what I could only assume was Falkreath hold. Must be Helgen, I assumed. The gates that I assumed were usually inviting seemed like the gates of Oblivion. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn't want to disgrace myself in the way my companion had. I decided to sit up; hold my head high. I'm a High Elf, after all. We are the most notoriously prideful bastards. We approached Helgen, and the gates seemed taller than ever.

"General Tullius, Sir! The headsman is waiting!" A soldier at the front of the wagon train yelled. You just had to say it, I cursed mentally.

"Good," said a gruff voice from a uniformed man, "Let's get this over with." The man, Tullius, wore the golden and red armor of an Imperial General. He rode atop a brown, thoroughbred warhorse, leading us into Helgen like livestock to the slaughterhouse.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" The thief pleaded, as panic took him over once again.

The soldier glared at the leader ahead. "Look at him," he said mockingly, "General Tullius the Military Governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn Elves. I bet they had something to do with this." My breath caught in my throat, and my head pounded heavier than ever. I abruptly looked down, assuming the position I had resolved not to keep. Why are they here? I frantically thought. I can't be that important to them. I'm just a Spellsword. I then looked to the man to my right, Ulfric Stormcloak, supposed "High King of Skyrim." He was the reason we were here, and it was foolish of me to think anything else.

The cart's wheels road through frozen dirt within the center of the town. We passed houses, inns, and shops. The citizens of the town had stepped away from their daily activities in order to watch this parade of doom; most likely out of curiosity rather than the morning's evertainment. "This is Helgen," the soldier stated, "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He looked up at the stone structures that stood towering over the small wooden frames of the town's buildings. "Funny," he mused, "when I was a boy, Imperial walls used to make me feel safe."

I inhaled the brisk air of a morning and looked about. In the distance, I heard a conversation between a boy and his father. They sat on their porch, observing the comotion we made as we paraded through the town. "Who are they, daddy?" the boy asked, "Where are they going?"

The father responded to him with a stern, but kind tone. "You need to go inside, little cub."

"Why?" the boy responded innocently, "I want to watch the soldiers."

The father responded in a much harsher voice. "Inside the house. Now!" The boy then, much to my relief, conceded.

We neared a tall parapet, and the wagons began to slow down. I heard the barking of a particularly mean looking Imperial Captain. "Get these prisoners out of the carts," she ordered, "Move it!"

"Why are we stopping?" asked the thief in his weakest voice yet; desperation in his eyes.

The soldier responded with calm boldness. "Why do you think?" he said. "End of the line."

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

 **Welcome to chapter one of Sol's adventures! I hope you have enjoyed this retelling of Skyrim's prologue. Writing this part almost felt like writing a novelization, haha. This part is definitely a bit familiar, but I decided to start at the very beginning to tell this story. But as we all know from playing the game, once Helgen is escaped, the world becomes our own. I have the second chapter written, but I would like to ensure that the third is written before I post it. But in the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think! I am always up for constructive criticism and encouragement is more than welcome. Thanks!**

-Kovecs


	2. Chapter 2: Who Are You?

**Chapter #2.** **"** ** _Who are you?"_**

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In unison, the carriages came to a halt, causing us to jolt within our seats. A small crowd began to form around us as we arrived at our destination. We were in the shadow of a vast stone tower. The thief was more frantic than ever, Ulfric remained silent, and the soldier maintained his sense of honorable understanding. "Let's go," he said to me, "We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

I nodded in reply. I still hadn't found words to speak. My head was still spinning at the very thought of the situation. I tried not to look at the bloodstained chopping block in the center of the commotion.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" The thief screamed in terror. He tugged at his bonds in a vain attempt at freeing them.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The soldier said sternly as the four of us stood up to exit the cart. One after the other, we jumped to the cold ground.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief begged, as he ignored the soldier's advice.

The Imperial Captain stepped forward. She was a well-built woman, with scarred-tan skin and eyes as harsh as those of a bear. She was shorter than the Imperial Soldier beside her who humbly held a paper and quill, but her command of the troops was clear. "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," she said confidently. Where the other Imperials seemed to see this as duty, this woman seemed to relish her power.

"Empire loves their damned lists," my soldier friend whispered.

The timid man with the paper and quill spoke up, "Ulfric Stormcloak," he stated, "Jarl of Windhelm." The apparent High King stepped forward immediately.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," my soldier friend said as the king walked towards his certain doom.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the Imperial soldier said. The blonde-haired Stormcloak maintained the honor he had held throughout the foreboding trip. He nodded at the man with the quill confidently - as if he knew him - then stepped into line. I overheard someone refer to the Imperial by the name Hadvar.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," Hadvar said to the thief, who stepped forward.

He tugged at his bonds one more time and cried: "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir stomped his feet into the dirt and took off running. The coward sprinted as fast as he could, making his way through the town as he ignored the orders to halt. "You're not going to kill me!" he said in vain as an Imperial arrowhead burst through his chest. I saw the blow cause blood to spurt into the air. He fell to his knees with one final cry of fear and was dead before the rest of him landed.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain challenged. I knew she secretly hoped that one of us would take her up on the offer, but no one was so foolhardy.

"Wait," Hadvar said to me after a moment of silence, "You there. Step forward." I obeyed calmly, having no intentions of dying like a craven. "Who are you?"

 _My name is Soliril_ , I thought as I looked at him through bright yellow eyes. They didn't know who I really was, but it didn't matter anyway. I decided to give him my true name. "Sol," I said simply. It wasn't my full name, but it would suffice. He and the captain studied my features for a brief moment. I stood a head taller than the both of them. I wasn't particularly unique looking by High Elf standards, save for light facial hair growing on the sides of my jaw. I kept my light-brown hair at shoulder-length and swept back. My skin was bronze like many others of my race.

"You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you High Elf?" Hadvar inquired. My heart jumped within my chest, but before I had time to speak he corrected himself. "No," he said, "that can't be right…" He turned to the captain, who glared at me with indiscernible hatred. "Captain. What should we do? He's not on the list."

The moment of hope was brief at best. But the merciless captain quickly responded: "Forget the list. He goes to the block."  
"By your orders, Captain." Hadvar replied respectfully. "I'm sorry," he said, turning to me, "we'll make sure your remains are returned to the Summerset Isles."

My heart sank at his words which were said with sorrow. It was in that moment that the reality of the dire situation had made itself fully known to me. I was going to die. Hardly did I hear the words that were said around me. Although, among the blurred voices I heard a single sentence: "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

My feet shuffled forward and my head remained hung low. Strands of hair which usually were tucked behind my ears brushed against my forehead as I looked at the scene before me with sad eyes. I was surrounded by armed Imperials and bound Stormcloaks. Upon looking to my left, I saw Ulfric Stormcloak standing, still bound and gagged. Before him stood General Tullius. Though an Imperial, Tullius was not much shorter than the Jarl of Windhelm. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero," Tullius said in a gruff voice, "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." Ulfric could only grunt in response and Tullius continued. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."

In the air, a sound like distant thunder echoed. I was certain that it did not just come from my ears because the entire crowd stopped to look about themselves. "What was that?" Hadvar inquired.

"It's nothing," Tullius responded promptly, "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The captain replied with a smile adorning her lips. "Give them their last rites."

Out of the crowd, a lone priestess stepped forward adorned in the yellow and orange cloak of one in service to the gods. By nature of her position, I assumed that she was a priestess of Arkay the God of Death. The god whom I would be meeting very soon. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius," she began, "Blessings of the Eight Divines are upons you…-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," interrupted a bold Stormcloak. As if there were such thing as a timid one, it would seem. He was already marching towards the chopping block.

"As you wish," the priestess stated, clearly taken aback by the brashness of the warrior.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" The stormcloak said as he was forced to kneel by the captain. The block was little more than a stump of wood with a basket to catch head's that were recently removed from their bodies. I shuddered at the thought. The soldier still heald himself proudly, so the captain kicked him against the block with a steel boot. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He asked. No sooner did the words leave his mouth that a rusty blade cleaved his neck. Blood spurted as his head fell right into that basket, his body fell to the earth limply. The captain kicked it out of her way.

"You Imperial bastards!" yelled a woman in the crowd which began to roar. Cries of "justice" and "death to the Stormcloaks" began to resound throughout the area.

As the chaos built, Ralof said quietly: "As fearless in death as he was in life."

I only had a moment to ponder before I heard the captain yell, "Next, the High Elf."

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

 **I decided to release part #2 a little earlier than expected! This probably won't be the most common occurrence, as I am a college student. However, I really want to get through Helgen so I can move on to some more original adventures. This chapter was really fun to write. I purposely avoided a detailed description of Sol in chapter #1 so I could find some way to fit in the character creation in a natural way. I hope it worked out! As usual, I hope you enjoy it and I would really appreciate to hear your thoughts. So, if you have the time, review, review, REVIEW! I would love to hear any constructive criticism, and who doesn't love some encouragement? I am very grateful for you reading this story. Part #3 will be out fairly soon, I just want to finish a round of editing (shouldn't take long, the chapter is extra short) and I want to have chapter #4 mostly written before I post. Thanks for reading!**

~Kovecs


	3. Chapter 3: The Block

Part #3. _The Block_

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There are moments in life that seem too overwhelming to comprehend, particularly as they are happening. When I walked to the chopping block, my chest pounding and my eyes unblinking, I realized just how much that thought could be understated. I heard the crunch of snow underfoot, now pondering the weight that it would be the last time that I would hear such a simple sound. My head was still spinning, I did not even hear the captain yell again or somber words of Hadvar saying: "To the block, Prisoner. Nice and easy."

I walked to the block slowly, my legs felt numb. Turning my head, my eyes fell upon the man who would soon end my life. A big and burly brute - even for a Nord - his head was concealed behind a dirty black hood. He had arms like trunks of cedar and stood grim and quiet as a shadow. In his hands he held a rusty axe, coated in dripping blood.

I looked up into the misty morning sky and a question lingered at the edge of my mind. Who would miss me? I had no family to speak of, no parents of note or wife to weep for my passing. _What legacy will I leave this world? A runaway Thalmor with a knack for worshiping Talos? How will I be remembered? Will I even be remembered?_ Questions, I reckoned, to ask the gods in a few moments. But the bitter taste of a life I deemed pointless lingered in my mind.

It did not stay long. Feeling the metal boot of the imperial captain, my knees hit the ground. The cold liquid of snow seeped through the fabric and chilled my legs. My hair was grabbed taught and my head was forced into the nook. My head was forced to look at the severed head of the bold soldier who was the first of us to die. I did not move even after the captain released her grip. _The end of the line._

My yellow eyes looked blankly upon my killer as he lifted his rusty axe. I gave a silent prayer to Talos, asking him for the courage to face this death of mine. Before, I never would have considered myself a coward. But fear was overtaking me. I regretted that I would leave no legacy and no one would morn my loss. I hoped that if I were given another chance, I could build a good life. But it was a fool's hope and the axe was now raised high, ready to fall down upon my nape.

Suddenly, the sound returned; this time it overwhelmed the area with its sheer power. It was no longer a distant thunder, now it was a booming roar. The townspeople and soldiers alike covered their ears in a vain attempt to shield the noise. A black blur darted through blue sky as a beast landed upon the nearby tower. Its great wings enveloped the roof and the monster stared at us with red eyes filled with fury. In the chaos, a voice in the crowd screamed: "Dragon!"

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

 **Extra short chapter here! But that means part four will be here soon! I'm hoping to get through the prologue fairly quick. Because, let's face it, we're all sick of it at this point. This chapter is super important though, because it marks the shift for Sol. The Dovahkiin, through side quests/main quests/and whatnot, makes an impact. So that who new life thing will definitely play into the adventures of the future. As usual, thanks for reading, please drop a review if you like the story! I would really appreciate it. I will see you all soon for chapter #4!**

~Kovecs


	4. Chapter 4: The Hellfire of Helgen

**Chapter #4. _The Hellfire of Helgen_**

* * *

General Tullius shouted and the captain barked orders, but nothing could halt the chaos. The surrounding folk cried in terror and even the executioner faltered. Then the beast shouted with a mighty voice and clap of thunder wounded our ears once again. The words made the sky ripple and turn to the color of sundering flame. I had escaped from the fate of the headsman's axe into a blur of hellfire.

The last thing I had heard was General Tullius ordering the guards to get the townsfolk to safety. My lungs were bereft of air - for the power of the beast's voice pushed me back - and my heart beat more rapidly than ever. I lay beside the chopping block, where I once thought I would meet my end. Although, I thought, this place might still be the death of me. Out of the cooking pot and into the fire, it seems. The only sounds I heard were distant echoes and soon a ringing pierced my ears. Then - all at once - the world around me returned and my head finally cleared.

I saw citizens running for their lives and soldiers frantically firing arrows at a great black dragon in the air. Flames rained down from the sky and it was accompanied by horrific screams of innocents. There was a blood-stained piece of rubble in front of me and beside it the executioner lay face-down in a pool of his own blood. Abruptly, I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder and swiftly turn me around. It was Ralof. "Hey, High Elf," he yelled over the insanity, "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Dragging me with him, he then took off running towards the nearby tower. "This way!"

"Right behind you," I said, finally breaking my silence, my voice far raspier than it normally was from lack of use. I followed my new friend as quick as I could muster, soon finding unstable shelter in the stone tower. Looking about, I saw the faces of former prisoners. Mostly Nords and Stormcloaks, with the exception of a shifty Dark Elf with a particularly ill-favored way about him. He must of been of the prisoners, not unlike the horse thief, Lokir. But it was not the time for observations. My gaze turned and fell upon Ulfric and Ralof.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof said with a strained voice, "what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

The Jarl stood, noble and proud. He spoke with an authoritative voice. "Legends don't burn down villages," the Jarl said. "We need to move. Now!"

I merely nodded in response and Ralof yelled, "Up through the tower, let's go!"

Before I even realized it, my feet were patting up the stone steps. The exertion caused me to pant as stamina drained from my weakened body. We soon reached a block in our road. One of the attacks from the dragon had caused a pile of rocks to block the steps. A young soldier was already working at clearing the way. "We just need to get some of these rocks-."

Before I had time to react, the wall of the exploded, shattering the young man in its wake. In the wall's place was the nightmarish face of the dragon. It opened its mouth and shouted the words "Yol Toor Shul!" and the tower was illuminated with the searing light off dragonfire. Instinct took over me and I reared back. I would have fallen to my death down the stone steps had Ralof not been directly in the way. We crashed against the wall.

"Talos guide us!" I cursed as I regained my balance, looking up to see that the dragon had vanished back into the fray. The opening it had left was wreathed with flame and the soldier's death added yet another to the toll. Peering out the hole, I saw a city in shambles. Bodies littered the streets and the buildings burned.

Ralof stood beside me and pointed out, "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!" The inn was a skeleton of its former self. Where there once was a thatch roof, only the support beams remained. The fires had quickly seen fit to clear a path for me to jump.

"What about you?" I inquired, turning to face the Nord.

"Go! We'll follow when we can!" He responded, his voice urgent. I nodded a quick farewell to my friend before leaping into the brisk air. I assumed I would never see Ralof of Riverwood again.

My feet met the inn's second floor with a loud thud, causing me to cry out as pain struck my legs. The landing hurt, but the injury was minor at most, so I continued to run. I darted through overturned tables and broken chairs, soon coming to a shattered area of the floor that allowed for passage to the ground. I hopped down and landed with far more of that High Elven grace than my last attempt.

I burst through the blaze of the inn, out onto the street. There were a few figures in the midst of the area. An elder, a boy, a wounded man, and a soldier that looked familiar. Hadvar, I realized, the Imperial scribe. In the center of the clearing, the boy stood beside the wounded man. I reckognized them as a foreboding feeling fell over me. The father and son from the village.

The boy held onto his father's hand. The man lay drenched in his own blood. "Haming! You need to get over here! Now!" Hadvar yelled. The kid turned and hesitantly went towards the Imperial. There were tears falling from the child's eyes. "That a boy. You're doing great."

Suddenly, the earth shook as the dragon landed before the dying father. Hadvar had the boy hooked in his arm and pulled him away. All eyes turned to the dreaded monster and Hadvar called out to the boy's father: "Torolf!"

The dragon shouted the same words that it had in the tower: "Yol Toor Shul!" Then the man burst into flames, turning to black charcoal within seconds. I stood, dumbfounded as a man became ashes. It was not like I was a stranger to combat or even cruelty, for that matter. But the sight of a father's life ripped away in front of his son chilled me to the bone. The beast took back off into the sky, its wings forming gusts of wind.

Hadvar left the sobbing child with one of the townsfolk; the older man. I stood there silently until Hadvar made eye contact. "You still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he said to me. He then turned to the old man. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." The man replied in a gruff but weakened voice. Hadvar began sprinting through the town and I followed suit.

We darted down paths and along Helgen's stone wall. "Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar yelled as the world shook again. I was growing accustomed to this beast's attacks. But when the beast landed directly above us, my breath halted in my lungs. I knew the creature was big, but standing directly under its wings was a different story. I prayed again that it would leave and it did. But not before saying that damned phrase again and burning an Imperial archer to a crisp. Directly after the dragon flew away, Hadvar said: "Quickly, follow me!"

We ran through the dragon's most recent carnage, soon arriving at the clearing where a troop of soldiers was mounting a defence against the winged, fire-speaking monster. Archers fired arrows and battle-mages responded to the dragon with flames of their own, but none would even scratch it. It was as an army of flies against a stallion. I heard the words of Tullius, ordering his troops into the retreat and I followed Hadvar.

"It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!" He called to me, running towards the keep. The soldiers kept fighting and more kept dying.

As we neared the keep, a familiar frame jogged amidst the chaos. He wore the leather armor and blue sash of a Stormcloak and his head was adorned with yellow hair. "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar yelled angrily, holding his sword high.

"We're escaping, Hadvar," Ralof stated in a calm voice, "You're not stopping us this time."

Hadvar fumed with anger and I saw his grip tighten on his weapon, but rather than attack the man he knew, he simply cried: "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

I could see that there was a history between the two men, clearly. But now was not the time to learn it. Hadvar took off running again, no doubt expecting me to follow. "You! Come on, into the keep!" Ralof yelled.

"With me, prisoner. Let's go!" Hadvar called back.

I stopped in my tracks, watching the two enemies I somewhat knew to be my friends. On one hand, I could travel with Hadvar who was a kind soul who served those who would have my head. On the other, I could travel with the Stormcloaks. Their future was uncertain, but not long ago they knew me as a brother in binds. I went with Ralof, whispering "Goodbye, friend," under my breath towards the humble Imperial scribe. I did not know what lie ahead in the keep, but I knew it would be better than the hellfire of Helgen.

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

 **Wow, chapter #4. already! I hope you are enjoying my retelling of the prologue of Skyrim. The next coming chapter will most likely be the longest but also the last of those that take place in the prologue itself. Here is a preview, I'm calling it _"Soldiers, Spiders, and Bears"_ OH MY. So that's fun. Thanks again for sticking with me, I hope you're having fun thus far. If you feel up for it, please leave a review! Thanks again! **

~Kovecs

 **P.S. I'm really not used to writing in first person. So this is an adventure.**


	5. Chapter 5: Soldiers, Spiders & Bears

**Chapter #5: _Soldiers, Spiders and Bears_**

* * *

The door of Helgen Keep closed behind us, drowning out the noise from outside. Though the echoed and muted cries from the town still resounded. Ralof and me stepped into a tall room adorned with animal trophies along its stone walls. There was a tattered Imperial flag and a dusty rug. It would be a fairly normal sight, if not for the corpse of a Stormcloak soldier laying down beside a table. He must have succumbed to wounds from outside.

As I caught my breath and collected myself, Ralof ran to the body and knelt beside him. He shut the man's frightened eyes and said, "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother."

"A friend of yours?" I inquired, standing beside the man.

"Aye. Gunjar was his name," Ralof looked down thoughtfully for a moment and then looked back up. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it," his tone had changed from somber to determined, "That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times."

"Talos," I cursed softly, running my fingers back through my windswept hair. _The End Times?_ I did not want to believe it. But I did. "So what now?"

"We better get moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off." Ralof said. He drew an iron axe that he must have swiped somewhere in the town. I held my binds taught and he brought the axe down on the rope, cutting the binds to threads. "There you go. You may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needed it any more."

I reached down, pulling off the dead man's fur boots to replace my linen wrappings. "Alright," Ralof commented, "get that armor on and give that axe a few swings." _That armor?_ I almost inquired, horrified that I would need to both strip off and wear the armor of a dead man. But I decided not to ask questions. There would be time for questions after we were far away from Helgen.

I removed the clothing from Gunjar and equipped his axe. Instead of the ragged and itchy tunic of an Imperial prisoner, I wore the proud armor of a Stormcloak soldier. I gripped the axe in my hand and swung it a time or two to feel the weight. The axe was far from my chosen weapon, I had always been accustomed to a one-handed sword. But the axe allowed for a free hand. In combat, in service of the Thalmor, I often accessed a restorative spell. Now that my hands were free, I flicked my hand open and felt a healing magic glow yellow in my hand. It felt good to be able to use magic again. _I may not always be the most stereotypical High Elf, but I do like magic._ As I readied myself, Ralof said something about finding a way out of the room. I looked to find that there was no way to open the door from our side. Ralof cursed.

Suddenly, we heard a voice in the distance and the clatter of boots on the rock floor. "Come on soldier, keep moving!" The voice barked. It had a familiar edge to it and I quickly came to the realization that it was the captain who presided over the execution.

"It's the Imperials, take cover!" Ralof said in a harsh whisper.

"Get this gate open," the woman said in her usual harsh tone. I gripped my axe tighter as the gate clinked and lowered. I would not consider myself an easily angered Mer, but this Imperial's heartless brutality made my blood boil. The two soldiers stepped through the gate and Ralof yelled a battle cry. Swinging his axe, he brought it down onto the young soldier beside the captain. Metal cleaved through metal, flesh and bone, and the young man was dead before he could cry out. The captain was another story.

"You're going to wish your head was in that basket," the captain said, raising her steel forged sword. Our battle began after she made the first swing and I deflected it as deftly as I could muster with such a cumbersome weapon.

"Come finish the job then," I retorted through gritted teeth. I shoved her back and brought my axe down towards her head. She blocked it with ease and swung the sword towards my side flank. There was no time for me to parry, so I jumped back. Ralof stood back, he knew this was my fight.

"Sol, right? I'll remember you," she said with far less anger than before. It caused me to ponder the motivation behind her frustration, but this was once again no time to think: it was the time to act. Using the momentum of my backwards dodge, I brought my axe-arm back down and chopped through her exposed wrist. Bone crunched and blood spurted. She then cried out and fell to her knees. "I failed," she said in a sobering tone. She looked up at me with a sincere gaze. "Finish it."

I studied her for a moment. She knelt, but not out of submission. There was almost something to be admired about this woman's stubborn pride and resolve. She had a job to do and my survival meant that it was not complete. Whether it was mercy or cruelty, I decided to oblige her by driving my axe into her chest. _A quick death, at the very least she offered me that first._

"Elvish bastard," she sputtered through a blood-filled mouth. She fell back and hit the stone floor.

"Are we done?" Ralof asked, standing at a distance after allowing me to fight my own battle.

"Yes," I simply replied as I picked up the captain's sword. As we continued through the keep, I recognized that we would soon face even more perils. But now, the cruel captain would not be one of them.

We were fortunate to learn that the Imperials had the key to one of the doors. The lock unhinged with a click and we swiftly raced down a winding stone staircase. "That's it," Ralof said as we ran, "Come on, let's 's get out of here before that dragon brings that tower down on our heads."

"I couldn't agree more-," I began to reply, but was interrupted when a crash erupted from above and the ceiling burst into pieces.

"Look out!" Ralof yelled before I tackled him out of the way. The rain of stone barely missed us. Our path was blocked by a wall of rubble. The dust took a moment to clear, but when it finally did, Ralof observed: "Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy."

I studied the obstacle in front of us, scratching my head. There was no way we could pass through. Suddenly, we heard voices coming from a closed door in the hall. "Grab everything important and let's move!" A gruff one said. We opened the door to find another captain and soldier. They were rummaging frantically for potions as they prepared their escape.

"Death to the Empire!" Ralof cried with his axe above his head, sprinting towards the enemies. He swung it sideways into one of the soldier's necks, blood sprayed every which way. I found myself combating yet another captain. He wore the same steel adorned armor and wielded an Imperial blade like mine. We attacked and parried, the cycle lasting a few minutes before I finally knocked his sword away and plunged my new blade into his gut. He died with a desperate cry.

While catching my breath, I looked around the room. It was a storeroom of some sort. There were tables with candles still lit and food untouched. A fire burned in its place, sending smoke up through the chimney as if were a normal day and the entire town above was not itself aflame. Ralof mentioned to me that there would be potions in the barrels, so we quickly grabbed a few for future use, along with some food and gold for the road; if were were ever to escape the keep. We then set right back off through the halls.

We walked through the door to hear the familiar sounds of battle nearby. The clanging of steel and the grunts of exertion echoed through the keep. Quickening our pace, we ran down the steps to find a floor painted red with blood. In the room was several iron cages, within them imprisoned corpses, fresh and old. Cuffs and chained decorated the wall along with numerous sharp instruments. "Troll's blood," Ralof said with horror in his voice, "It's a torture chamber."

I wish I could say that I had never seen one before, but that would not be the truth of it. When I served with the Thalmor, I often stood guard near cages like the ones before us. In my head, I could still hear the screams of those who displeased the Thalmor. For that was the reason they were tortured as much as it was for extraction of information. I said nothing to Ralof; I couldn't find the words.

In the chamber, a torturer and his assistant defended themselves against three Stormcloak soldiers. Two older men and a blonde-haired woman fiercer than the both of them combined. Ralof and I joined the fight, fueled by the anger of injustice. The conflict did not last long and soon the torturers' blood was mixed with their victims on the cold floor.

We gathered some supplies before leaving the dark room. In one of the cold metal cages lay a dead mage, succumb to an unknown malady. He had some spell tomes and gold beside him. We decided that those items would be important for the road ahead. Ralof found a few lockpicks and handed them to me. It took me a moment and I broke a pick or too, but soon the door creaked open. I gathered the tomes, gold, and the mages hood. As I wrapped it about my head, I felt a burst of magicka surge within me. I intended to put the fallen mage's gifts to good use.

We ducked down yet another stone corridor, this time with a small troop of Stormcloaks in tow. I soon self a chill in the air upon my bare arms as we delved yet deeper. Soon the hall opened to a vast cavern with winding bridges and running water. "Our orders are to wait until General Tullius arrives," an Imperial Sergeant said, his voice carrying among the rock.

"I'm not waiting to be killed by a dragon!" Said a defiant soldier with a threatening edge to his voice. We tried, in vain, to sneak past them and soon we found ourselves in another bath of blood. This time, arrows flew from a distant ledge. They sang through the air and clinked as they struck the ground. I sprinted to the ledge and quickly dispatched the archers, who were poorly prepared for hand-to-hand combat. Taking a bow and quiver from one of the bodies, I shot arrows into the remaining soldiers who battled my friends. It was good to hold a bow again, I may have been a Spellsword, but I was Mer first and foremost. Upon regrouping with the others, I discovered that the two men had perished during the fighting. Only the shieldmaiden, Ralof and myself remained. We had no choice but to leave the dead and escape further into the caverns.

Our path was soon blocked by, what appeared to be, an upright wooden bridge. The hall was narrow, but to the side there also rested a lever which the shieldmaiden pulled without hesitating. The clangs of turning gears resounded as the wooden planks moved downward, culminating in a loud crash which left a bridge in its wake. Our shieldmaiden friend resolved to stay behind to await more survivors. We said our goodbyes before we crossed the bridge and she ran back into the previous room.

Suddenly, we heard the dragon roar in the distance and the hallway roof gave way to crashing rubble right behind us. With our way back crumbled behind us, it left only the path ahead. "No going back that way," Ralof said.

"It would seem so," I responded with a half-hearted chuckle. Our friend was out of the way of the falling rocks, so the crash was just another twig on an already blazing fire.

"We'd better push on," Ralof stated, "The rest of them will have to find another way out."

I nodded solemnly and replied: "Gods guide them all."

After the start of the crashing ceiling, we did not even notice the running water which dipped through the cave ahead of us. Twin torches lit the base of a stairway which symbolized the end of man-made structures. Their glow illuminated a vast cavern adorned with stalactites and stalagmites. We had left the keep and now entered the cave.

Over ages, the water had eroded a path for us that was lit, not by torches, but by glowing mushrooms. I had heard of fungus that grew like this in the deep places of Nirn, but I had only seen things of the like on alchemists' tables. Our wanderings led us down the stream, wetting our boots, until we came to yet another block in our road. We found ourselves beginning to see a pattern. However, by providence there was a passage to our right which led to a vast opening. As we entered it, a rotting and putrid smell assaulted my nostrils. I felt an overwhelming sense of unease as my eyes surveyed the cave about us; there were webs everywhere.

The white, sticky-looking webs were spun all about us. I gripped my bow tighter and turned to Ralof. No words were spoken between us but we we knew; we were not alone. The spine-chilling sound of web pulled taught echoed in the chamber above us and we looked up to see - what seemed like - a dozen gigantic Frost Spiders. They came upon us swiftly and we loosed what arrows we could manage into a few of them. Ralof chopped at a few of them, resulting in high pitched cries of pain from the dreaded beasts. As I began to draw my sword, one tackled my to the earth, but found itself run through with my blade. The green blood coated my face and armor. I pushed it off of myself and stood up, Ralof was catching his breath. "I hate those things," he said, "Too many eyes, you know?"

"And blood that smells like a skeever den," I responded with a wry smile. They say that trials create strong bonds, and I could see that Ralof and I would be good friends. If we could make it out of the oblivion-hole that the cave had become. "Let's get moving. It can't be much farther."

The air grew more fresh as we entered the next cavern and light broke through from around the corner. We truly were almost out of the cave. The river ran through this area, much stronger than before. I reckoned that if we attempted to ford it, we would be swept under the rapids. There was only one way to the exit, but what lay in our path made our hearts sink. It was a great brown bear.

"I'd rather not tangle with her right now. Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow" Ralof said softly.

"I agree. I've had enough of beasts for one day," I responded as I entered a state of sneaking. When I was trained, as a young man, I always pictured as if I was being watched by an eye; closed when hidden and opened when found. We crossed a makeshift bridge and I felt my boot seek to give way against the slippery rock.

"Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step," Ralof said in a harsh whisper.

Each step felt as if our feet were landing on a trap in an ancient ruin. Our hearts pounded in our chests and we did not dare to exhale. The bear slept nearby, growling in a state of dreams. When our feet finally stepped into snow from outside, causing a crunch, we were far enough that we did not need to worry as much. There had been enough violence for one day and the bear remained in peace.

* * *

 _Unbound._

We stepped into the open air, feeling the briskness of a northern morning. The far horizons seemed endless and were adorned with pine trees and mountains that seemed to reach a sky bluer than any I had seen before. It was beautiful. But no words could never do justice to what I felt as I left that cave. The world was before me. In that moment, Skyrim became my home.

Ralof suggested to me that it would be best if the two of us split up, a sentiment that I unfortunately agreed with due to the fact that we were technically Imperial fugitives. Though, after a week or two, I expected our escape would be forgotten as news of the dragon would spread. The Thalmor, however, would not so easily let my transgression go. But there would be time to worry about that at another time and on another day. Ralof planned to walk north towards Riverwood, his home, and I would go straight on west towards the lake. Before we left, he told me of his sister, a woman named Gerdur, who lived in Riverwood. He said that she would help me if I ever needed it.

"I should hope to see you again, my friend," I said as I extended a hand towards Ralof.

He shook it heartily and kindly replied: "I look forward to the day, High Elf."

We then set off on our own adventures. As Ralof disappeared down the path, I stepped into the woods. I heard birds singing and the waters from the lake beyond. The marks from the bindings still burned, but I was no longer bound. The entirety of Skyrim was ahead of me and my journey had begun.

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

I have compiled the parts 1 and 2 of chapter 5 into one section. Here are my two end letters from both!

" _Chapter #5 part #1?"_ That's not confusing at all (sarcasm). The reason behind this is that school has been taking over my life, but I am still working on this story when I can! This chapter is just so dang long. So I figured I'd release the first half of this chapter and then a week or two after releasing the second, I'll combine them. Just want you to know I'm not disappearing on you! Also to add, I'm posting it to keep my momentum going so I don't just leave this thing unfinished, haha. As always, thanks for reading, leave a review if you like, etc. I really do appreciate all of you! THANKS AGAIN.

~Kovecs

It has been a while! Finals nearly were the end of me, but I emerged somewhat victorious! Here is the second part of the fifth chapter. After about a week or so, I will put them into one part. But leave my notes intact at the end. I am finally finishing the prologue and am eager to start telling original adventures on the boundless roads of Skyrim. As usual, if you enjoy it, please leave a review and maybe a fave/or follow! Thanks again!

~Kovecs

P.S. This one's for you, King Endercreeper!


	6. Chapter 6: Lake Ilinalta

**Chapter #6: _Lake Ilinalta_**

* * *

My only company was that of distant birds as my first journey in the wilds of Skyrim began. The fur-wrapped boots upon my feet stepped through pale-green grass, dusted with snow. I had a quiver of arrows on my back and an Imperial's longbow in my hand, my spirit was still tense from the chaotic beginning of my adventure. As I walked through the woods, I seemed to jump at any brief noise. However, the sounds predominantly came from rabbits hopping through the brush. The northern woods held a brisk and serene beauty.

The morning had turned to afternoon and one of those rabbits had become my lunch. I lost a few arrows to the chase, but it was worth it to have some food in my belly. Smoke rose into the air as I cooked the meat over a small campfire I had built with some wood and a spell of flames. After all that had happened, I had forgotten that it had been a few days since I had last eaten. It was nice to relax a bit. I knew that there would be a place for me in the town of Riverwood someday soon, but that would be for another time.

With my stomach full after a meal of rabbit haunch, I continued on my journey west towards Lake Ilinalta. A mere mile or two rested between me and that lake; it would not be a long trip. I wandered among the tall pines until the distant sound of chopped wood echoed through the glade. The sound was soon followed by a collection of rough voices. They belonged to a group bandits. I had heard the legends of Skyrim's unforgiving wildfolk, and bandits were among the most common. Their camp was within clear sight and I cursed myself for not noticing it sooner.

In a swift motion, I crouched to my knees and brought myself into cover behind a tree. How long had I been visible? Would they take what they could and slit my throat? Or perhaps they would bring me to some Imperial-favored Jarl. I sunk deeper into the greenery about me. But the hiding place did not serve well. I felt the presence of unforgiving eyes and turned my head to find a rusty iron arrow trained on me. It was nocked in a hunting bow, wielded by an angry bandit. They had found me.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, friend," The bowman said in a gruff voice. _As if there would be a good time._ He was a Bosmer of Valenwood, some of the most renowned archers in all of Tamriel. He wore his hair in a mohawk and his face was painted with streaks of green. "Oi, Chief," he called over to the camp, "We got ourselves a wanderer here."

My thoughts shuffled through countless ways to escape this situation. I did not survive a town aflame and a murderous dragon just to be robbed and killed by a bunch of common thieves. The Bosmer had the drop on me, but I would need to take him out before the leader reached the top of the hill in which we stood upon. I could not win in a bow fight, so the minute the bandit's head turned to face his leader, I drew my blade and sliced it through the bow and across his chest. He died with a cry of pain.

The chief was a Redguard woman. Her dark skin was patterned with numerous battle scars and she was dressed in armor from head to toe. Our duel was not long. She was strong, but she lacked any glint of coordination. As she missed a chop that would drain her of stamina, I stabbed her in the belly with the Imperial Captain's sword. She reminded me of her, both determined and tough leaders; both gone.

There was only one bandit left; the woodsman who's handy work had resounded through the forest. He ran up the hill with his axe held high. As he yelled a blood-curdling war cry, I swapped my sword for my bow and flung an arrow into his neck. He fell straight back and crashed down the hill. By the grace of Talos, I had survived another skirmish. _Best start getting used to these scraps._

Their camp was not large or particularly well stocked. There was a campfire in the center, a chopping block to the western reach, and a tent for each of the three bandits. As I searched the chests and barrels, I found a set of iron armor. I changed out of the Stormcloak's uniform that had once belonged to the soldier Gunjar. It would be best, if I hoped to blend in, that I were not wearing the colors of the Imperials' enemies. The suit was fairly heavy yet lacked sleeves. I wondered how the Nords kept warm with this type of fashion. But I came to the conclusion that the words 'Nord' and 'fashion' should never be used in a sentence.

I set out west once more after grabbing a bag from the camp and packing my things into it. The trip was not long and I soon found myself on the edge of a hill overlooking a vast body of water. The blue of the water shown clear amongst the faded green of the trees and brilliant white of the mountain tops; this was Lake Ilinalta. At the edge of the water, on a beach nearby, my yellow eyes spotted a small fishing boat. I deduced that the boat did not belong to my hunters - the Thalmor and the Imperials - and was more likely owned by a local hunter.

The hill was steep, so I strode with caution as I descended. The grass and dirt were soon exchanged for sand as I stepped out onto a beach. I sheathed my weapons, holding out hope that whoever was down there would be much more friendly than those I was growing accustomed to. As I came upon the fisherman's campsite, I spied a small tent with a bedroll within, a fire for warmth, as well as a rack of strung fish. The dweller himself was a Redguard, dark of skin and hair. He had a leather cap upon his head and wore armor made of hide. "Hello, friend," He said to me in a tone that lacked any sense of malice.

"Greetings," I responded in a similar fashion, "Would you mind if I share your fire?"

"Of course, High Elf. I will feed you as well," The Redguard said with a nod. He did not bother to stand up from the wooden stump in which he sat. "I only ask for two things in return."

"And what might those be?" I asked, head tilted as I stood across from him.

"The first I ask is your name," he said, "I've been hunting and fishing in these parts for years, but I do not know your face."

"Fair enough," I replied, "I'm Sol." _Simply that._ I resolved not to give him my full name.

The man's brows crooked a bit, as if a thought quickly came to him and was settled. "That's not a name I've heard in a High Elf before. At least, by my reckoning. But you seem a decent enough fellow, and I'm a hardy shot with a bow if you're not so decent. My name is Waylas."

"It's good to meet you, Waylas," I extended a hand and shook his in a friendly greeting. Perhaps there was more to Skyrim than bandits and bears? "So what is the second condition, friend?"

"You catch as many fish as you eat," He said. And with that, he tossed me a pole, a hook and a line, then we began to fish.

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

A late Merry Christmas and an early Happy New Year to you! This is the first original adventure. Not really all that much of a game changer, just a walk in the woods; quite literally. One of the ultimate goals for this series is is to be a series of adventures in Skyrim. I am trying to sneak in little bits of Skyrim lines (we have all heard a million times) into normal dialogue. I cannot wait until he gets to meet a certain guard with a knock for an arrow in the knee. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this one. The next one will be a quick story and soon after that I will introduce Sol to Riverwood. Gosh, I love that village. As usual, I hope you enjoy. If you liked the story, I'd appreciate a favorite, follow, or a review. If you saw something you wished I had done differently? Please feel free to shoot me a PM! If you're polite, I'd love to hear you! Thanks again! If you are reading this, you are more appreciated.

~Kovecs


	7. Chapter 7: The Price of Faith

**Chapter #7:** ** _The Price of Faith_**

* * *

They say that Talos, the hero-god of man, once walked the paths of Skyrim. That was long before he would become known as Tiber Septim; the founder of the Septim Dynasty. I had pondered if it was by divine decree that I found myself dwelling in the north. But I put aside the idea. I had never actually been the most zealous of Mer, but I believed in Talos and doing the right thing meant standing by that belief no matter the costs. I had seen the evils of the Thalmor and came to the understanding that if they were against him so adamantly, then he must be good.

The sun reflected a brilliant orange off of the waters of Lake Ilinalta. It was not long after sunrise and I wanted to get on the road towards Riverwood as soon as I could; I had already lingered too long here. It had been two nights since the attack on Helgen and the fisherman, Waylas, had been kind enough to share the days' bounties as well as a campsite. It was a pleasant reprieve, doing nothing but fishing and sharing stories. But it was time I had moved on and the roads seemed to be calling my name. I bade farewell to Waylas and struck out along the beach towards a nearby stone path.

I traveled uphill and into the woods. The road winded and turned amongst the towering pine trees of Falkreath Hold. Skyrim was known for its tundras and alpines. I had yet to experience the tundras, but I placed my on septims on enjoying the forests best. Mer were, after all, stereotypically at home in nature, and I was not exception to that tale. As the sun rose higher into the air, I walked along the stone path. I would reach Riverwood before nightfall.

My path climbed slightly higher and soon a small hill came into view. It came before the cobble road turned and, in its center, was a shrine of Talos. The stone carving stood proud in the sunlight of the morning, with sword in hand and in a constant battle with the serpent carved beneath him. I walked closer, up towards the hill. I wanted to take a chance to pray to my god, but what I found before me shattered my spirit to the core. My heart sank as I saw the dead bodies. They rested in pools of their own blood and were sprawled throughout the clearing before the shrine. It was a massacre.

I strode cautiously and gazed with somber reverence at the sight of horror before me. There were four victims lying dead in the grass with their blood painting the statue of the god they worshiped. Not far from them lay a fifth corpse; a Thalmor soldier. My sorrow turned to anger and my fist clenched. At least the monster was dead. I decided that Riverwood could wait; these people deserved a proper burial.

I only dug four plots. The innocent worshipers would not rest beside their killer. I decided to burn my fellow Altmer, but not before searching his body. He wore traditional Thalmor robes with fabrics imbued with magicka. Within his pocket, I found a letter. It read:

 _Agent Sanyon,_

 _In response to your report dated 22nd Morning Star 401, your request for an expeditionary force is hereby denied.  
Sanyon, this is the seventh report you have filed this month, and not one of your leads - not one! - has turned up so much as a shred of evidence that a Shrine of Talos exists in the Lake Ilinalta region. No prisoners. No documents. Nothing!  
Our forces are stretched thin enough as it is, and I have better missions - better agents - to assign them to. If you feel so sure of your informant, investigate this yourself. Come back with proof. Or not at all.  
By my hand and seal,_

 _Elenwen_

I knew that name. She was at Helgen. I could picture her gaunt, pale face. Elenwen was the Ambassador and First Emersary of the Thalmor in Skyrim, wielding great influence. A power that she would presumably be soon using to hunt me down. I was the personification of everything she hated; a Talos worshiper and a prisoner who escaped her clutches.

It would seem that this Agent Sanyon found what he was looking for and was returned the mercy he offered. I cast a fire spell from my palms, setting his corpse ablaze. As I briefly watched the embers, I thought about the different paths this fellow might have chosen. I also pondered how easily it would have been for me to end up like him. It was not long until his body was ash upon the ground.

Before I set back along the road, I prayed at the altar of Talos. It was a quiet moment of peace, but it did not last long. This dark discovery of the killings reminded me of the vast danger out there. Skyrim was a harsh land; harsher still with conflicts like the massacre at the shrine of Talos. My travels were only beginning though and the Thalmor would soon be on my trail.

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

It has been a while! My schooling has been crazier than usual this year, which is saying quite a bit. But nevertheless, here is another chapter of Boundless Roads! I understood that my previous one was a little too home-y, so here's a little bit more strife. I really hope you enjoy! Not sure when I'll be able to get the next one out, but hopefully there won't be as large of a gap. As usual, if you liked it? Please drop a fave or give a review! Maybe even follow? If you thought something was missing or could be improve? Let me know! Thanks again.

~Kovecs


	8. Chapter 8: A New Friend

**Chapter #8: _A New Friend and the Village of Riverwood_**

* * *

After the detour of the shrine, my pace was hastened. I could still see the mutilated corpses in my mind's eye. The experience had left me disheartened, but my spirit was not yet broken. I would reach Riverwood within the hour and, though I found the woods peaceful, it would be a welcome reprieve to return to some form of civilization.

I walked along the stone path which rested on small cliffs on the side of a running river which swept north-eastward from Lake Ilinalta. As waters fell from drop offs and the rapids rushed, I could see the figures of jumping fish breaking through the surface. There were Salmon and Cyrodilic Spadetails, along with Abecean Longfins. I could understand why the hunter chose this area to poach and also why he would say: "It's not like my poaching is hurting anyone."

The road winded around a bend and soon I could see the silhouette of village. There was a wooden wall and makeshift palisades. I could see smoke rising from chimneys and could hear the distant clang of hammer on iron. It brought a smile to my face and I was distracted by the peacefulness of my destination. I should have kept a keener mind, for wolves prowled those paths.

The sound of a wolf howl brought me out of the trance far too late. I turned my head to see three grey wolves charging at me with wild eyes. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and swiftly I brought my hand to draw my sword, but I was too late. The force of the wolf's attack brought my crashing to the ground with the beast atop me, snarling and biting at me. I did not have time to think, I merely pushed and punched with all my might until the wolf was sent back. I stood as quickly as I could and drew my blade. I opened my free palm and golden magicka flared in my hand to heal the wounds inflicted by the wolf.

The fight was three-to-one until an iron arrow struck the neck of one of the wolves, burying deep and killing the animal in an instant. The momentary ruckus gave me the opportunity to drive my sword into a wolf's chest. It squealed like a whooped pup as it died. Soon, the final beast sought revenge for his fallen comrades. He lunged at me with savage ferocity, but an arrow in his back halted his strike. It was not enough to kill him, but my downwards slash with my blade did the trick. I stood, catching my breath and seemingly alone on the path.

"Greetings, brother Elf," said a kind voice said from the treenline. The voice belonged to a Bosmer who stepped out into the sunlight with a smile on his face and a hunter's bow in his hand. "Good to see a familiar face so far from home."

"I'm grateful for your assistance, friend," I said promptly with a nod. "And the feeling is mutual," I added.

He walked over to me and I looked down at him. He had silver hair, though he was not old, and stood no taller than any other Wood Elf. It was truly good to meet another Elf in these foreign lands. It brought a sense of familiarity to unclear times. The Bosmer extended a hand. "I'm Faendal. What's your name, brother?"

"I'm Sol," I replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. There was no pretense behind the Elf's kindness, it was refreshing after a life lived among the politics of the Thalmor.

"You're new to these lands, aren't you?" Faendal said with a chuckle.

"Is it that obvious?" I responded, my brows quirking and a smirk forming on my mouth.

"Something like that, brother," He nodded his head. "You're headed towards Riverwood. Not many strangers come this way. In fact, it's been a few years since I've seen a fellow Elf. It's nice to meet you, Sol."

"It is good to meet you also, Faendal. And yes, I am bound towards Riverwood. I'm new to these lands and a friend of mine told me I could seek shelter there," I said. "He might have already passed through. His name is Ralof. Do you know him?"

"I do," Faendal replied kindly as his gaze shifted back towards the village. "He's the honorable sort. Brash, whatnot. Warrior and hopeful hero. Typical Nord," he chuckled. "You'll get used to the Nord culture quickly. It's very… Snow, honor, stubbornness, and then more snow."

Faendal's words made me laughs softly and I nodded my head. They were true words, but I found there something to be admired about the bold and honest way of life. It would have yet to be seen, for I had not yet lived among the northern people.

"He left yesterday morn," Faendal mentioned. "Headed towards Windhelm."

We walked towards the village together, arriving in the town fairly quickly. The sight of me caused intrigue to the village members. There was an old woman who argued with her fair haired son and a kindly blacksmith who worked his forge with his daughter and his wife by his side. They all dropped their trades for a brief moment to study the newcomer. I came to the swift conclusion that they did not have visitors often.

My new friend and I parted ways, but not before he pointed me in the direction of the mill. I still held out hope for Ralof's promise of aid from his sister. There was a wooden bridge which lead to a small patch of land where the mill and waterwheel resided. It was there that I saw three figures, well, perhaps four, if you count a young boy's mut. There was a fierce looking blonde woman - whom I assumed was Gerdur - a tall and brawny mustached man, and a child with a dog. As I approached them, their eyes veered towards me with clear cautious curiosity.

"Hello," I said meekly, "My name is Sol. I know Ralof."

I then proceeded to share the entire story. Detail after detailed poured from my lips. I did not know how freeing it would be to share the truth, and nor did I realise how heavy the burden I carried was until it was lifted. The folk were kind enough and I deduced them to be trustworthy. They had no love for the Empire, and therefore, no love for the Thalmor.

The husband's name was Hod and the son's name was Frodnar. I already knew Gerdur's name. They allowed me to dwell with them for the night, and stay there until I could find more proper lodging. Riverwood would be my home for a time and I was alright with that fact. It was a small town, secluded from the troubles of the world. Or, so it seemed, of course. My place in the town was finally cemented when Hod said: "You looking for work? Get an axe and bring me all the wood you can chop."

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

It has definitely been quite a while. Oh, the life of a college student. I hope you enjoy this one. It has been a while since I have written this story, so I hope you can forgive me as I get back into the groove. As usual, if you like it, please like her up and maybe write a review! If you have any constructive criticism or just want to ask me questions? Please feel free to PM me. I will try to get back to you ASAP. I'm still trying to keep this story "possible" within the Skyrim engine, but I will definitely be taking a bit more liberties within the coming chapters. Ex. I'm not having the "go to Whiterun" part until later since the main story will be on the back burner. This is all about the adventures on the roads! Thanks again for reading.

~Kovecs


	9. Chapter 9: Of Letters and Love Triangles

**Chapter #9: _Of Letters and Love Triangles_**

* * *

Out of all of the potential adventures I expected to have in Skyrim, being a part of a love triangle was not one of them. Perhaps what made matters even more unusual was the fact that I was not even one of the members of said love triangle, but rather a dumbstruck onlooker who should have just kept his nose out of things and focused on work at the mill.

I had been dwelling in Riverwood for nearly a month. The work for Hod and Gerdur had proved sturdy and honest, but there were also some days in which I helped out the local blacksmith, Alvor, with his forge. The folk were kindly enough and I had found myself growing rather fond of the town by the water.

My average days were spent chopping wood and hauling great logs to be cut by the mill. It was not all that bad. Hod and Gerdur were good employers and my co-worker was, in fact, Faendal the Wood Elf. Our kinship had only grown as we worked the days away in the chill air, and I counted him as a friend. Life had reached a sense of normalcy.

"Have you met Camilla Valerius?" Faendal asked one day, grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear as he hauled armfuls of logs onto a pile.

"The Imperial?" I inquired. "Lucan's sister, correct? Yes, I got that golden claw for them back from Bleak Falls Barrow." It had been quite the endeavor. I traversed up the mountain, trudging through snow and fighting off bandits. I fought them into the barrow itself and even battled Draugrs. The folk of Riverwood like embellishing it quite a bit. So much so that it is often told around the hearthfires of the village. I suppose many have already heard it, and much like the legends of the Dragons, it needs not be told here.

Camilla Valerius had caused quite a stir in Riverwood. The day she had come to the village from Cyrodiil to stay with her brother, all of the town's young men, both of them, had stared in awe. She was friendly and pretty, admittedly. But I had no romantic interest in Camilla. I had too much on my mind still to prepare to settle down.

"Ah, yes. You did get that claw for them. I would say that she is the most beautiful maiden in all of Skyrim," Faendal said with glee. I fought every urge not to roll my eyes and laugh at his dramatas, but he was sincere enough.

"Really," I said with a bit of a huff, which betrayed my amusement. "In all of Skyrim? What about the Jarl Elisif the Fair?"

"I suppose she might be. But Camilla is definitely the prettiest maiden I've ever seen. Of course, there's that Sven. But, did you see the way she smiled at me when I talked to her yesterday? By Mara Herself, that smile could melt an Ice Wraith's heart."

The rest of the work day predominantly consisted of Faendal's romantic ramblings. He told me of plans to win her affections and how they would build a life together. The idealism was rather heartwarming. However, it was not inspiring enough for me to listen to it past work hours. I said my goodnight to Faendal and headed to the Sleeping Giant Inn.

I had been staying in a room there for a couple weeks. Hod and Gerdur had offered to keep me on for a while, but my pride did not allow me to take advantage of their hospitality any longer. Besides, they were paying me a good wage at the mill.

The inn was owned by a woman named Delphine, though I rarely saw her in those days. She was quiet and mysterious. Most of my dealings were with a Nord named Ordnar, who tended the bar. He was a simple fellow with a gruff, yet not unkind nature to him. Also, among the people of the Sleeping Giant, there was a Bard by the name of Sven.

Sven lived with his mother in one of the nicer homes in Riverwood. He had blonde hair. a beardless face and fancied himself higher born than those around him. Whether this was true or not, I did not care. He played his lute in the inn, knowing very few songs. As I sat, attempting to eat my dinner in silence, he sang a rather loud rendition of "Ragnar the Red."

 _Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,_

 _Who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead_

 _And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade,_

 _As he told of bold battles and gold he had made._

 _But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red,_

 _When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said;_

 _"Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead,_

 _Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"_

 _And so then came clashing and slashing of steel,_

 _As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal._

 _And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more-_

 _When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!_

After the final verse, the bard finally took a break. I was relieved until he sat right beside me, taking a swig of ale. "You're Sol, right?" he said. "That elf who returned the golden claw to the Valerius' store?"

"Yes," I replied simply, having found myself a bit sick of the 'local legend' mantle some of the townsfolk had given me for such a little favor.

"Ah, so you've seen her," Sven said with particular emphasis on the 'her.' The Nord smiled broadly and sighed dramatically, staring off into some unknown distance. _Great_ , I thought. _Another lovestruck idiot._

"You're talking about Camilla, I take it?"

"Oh yes. Camilla Valerius," he said her name reverently as if it were from some sacred text of the gods. "It's only a matter of time until she and I will be together. I just need to get rid of that Faendal."

That statement caused my pointed ears to perk up, and I found myself more interested in the conversation. "What about Faendal?" I asked.

"Faendal," he began with disdain, "thinks he can woo Camilla away from me. She's already mine, I keep telling him. She knows I'm the best man in Riverwood. That elf is kidding himself if he thinks she would choose him over me. I've seen him sneaking over to the Riverwood Trader to speak to her when I'm not around. He's wasting his time."

"Yes. Two people spending time together never blossoms into courtship," I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. To say I wanted nothing to do with any of this was too much of an understatement.

"Is that sarcasm?" Sven said snobbishly. "I've heard better wisecracks from Orgnar." He grunted heavily in frustration before continuing: "Still, you have a point. Camilla letting Faendal visit her isn't a good thing for me."

I downed the rest of my drink, a honey mead brewed all the way in Riften. I came to the realization that this was official a love triangle, and I wanted nothing to do with it. As I pondered, Sven reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded parchment.

"Here," he said, handing it to me, "let me give you a particularly venomous letter. Say it's from Faendal. That should get Camilla to stop inviting the elf over."

I had no words to say when Sven handed me the letter, I just simply nodded and headed to my room. I had every intention of just burning the thing and letting sleeping dogs lie. However, my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to read it.

 _Dear Camilla,_

 _I know I have called upon you at your house many times, and while we have been growing close, I need you to put aside any desires you may have for me aside. I am a true-born son of Valenwood, and I could never befoul my bloodline by courting an Imperial. I hope we can remain true friends, provided you understand your people's place in the Aldmeri Dominion, and respect me as such._

 _Sincerely, Faendal_

I set the paper on the bedside table as I lay upon the straw bed, my head on the pillow. Sven's words and deeds had frustrated me beyond measure. However, there was still one final straw to break the horse's back. What was it that tipped me over the edge? It was not the annoying persona or rudeness, but rather the fact that, as I attempted to sleep, I was subjected to four more renditions of "Ragnar the Red" each more terrible than the last. _Oh, Camilla will get that letter, alright_ , I thought blissfully before finally drowning out the noise and falling asleep.

The following morning, I wasted no time. I got up extra early and marched right over to the Riverwood Trader, where the Valerius' lived and worked. As I entered, Camilla greeted me with a flirtatious smile. "Well hello. It's a fine day with you around."

"Good morning, Camilla," I said, as stoic as I could muster. Having little time to waste, I handed the girl the letter. "Sven wanted me to trick you into believing that this was from Faendal."

I was officially a tattle tale, and proud of it. She took the paper and read it carefully, her eyes widening as she read further. Camilla's features turned to shock. "Oh my. He… he wanted me to think Faendal wrote this?"

"Aye. He did."

"Thank you for telling me the truth. Could you talk to Faendal, as well? I'm sure he'll want to thank you for standing up to him."

The sun was rising in the sky and the twin moons were disappearing into blue. I rushed over to the mill, where Faendal had already begun to work. He was carrying a bundle of firewood when I said: "I don't think you'll need to worry about any competition from Sven anymore." I then proceeded to tell him about the rest of the story, much to his joy.

"Sol, brother, I cannot even begin to tell you how grateful I am. You know what? If you ever need a bowman the next time you go off on an adventure? I'll be by your side. The mill will still be here when we return. You're a true friend." The sappy words made me smile and we shook hands. "Besides," he added, "this will be a wonderful story for she and I to tell our grandchildren." I brought my hand down into my palm and then we got to work.

The final stages of the love triangle were finally finished that night. The work day had been long, from my lack of sleep, and I trudged back to the Sleeping Giant. The night was normal as ever. I purchased some fried salmon and grilled leaks, along with some mead to wash it all down. Then pranced Sven, up to the center, lute in hand. By his demeanor, I knew that Camilla had spoken to him. He turned to me and gave a look that was akin to the smelling of rotten troll feet. "You're nothing but trouble," he scoffed. Then he unwittingly found his ultimate revenge: six more encores of "Ragnar the Red."

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

I hope you have enjoyed this slightly more comedic chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one. I've always found it really tough to write humor. Which is interesting, because in real life I am constantly cracking jokes. Anyway, I hope you found the telling of this quest fun! If you liked it a lot? Please feel free to favorite! I would also really love to get reviews on this thing. So if you are enjoying this series? Please feel free to write one. I am going to be moving into my apartment at school this weekend, a new chapter is starting. I will try my best to keep up, but I'm sure you understand how life can be! Thanks again, friends.

~Kovecs


	10. Chapter 10: The Embershard Threat

**Chapter #10: _The Embershard Threat_**

* * *

I never realized how much my heart craved adventure. I always thought that all I wanted was to find a small home and live in peace. But it is in moments like one which I experienced in Riverwood, a few months after I came there, that make me realize that I want both. My selfish heart is discontent with one or the other. I want a peaceful life, but I also want the thrill of defending it.

The sun had been just starting to rise over the mountains where Bleak Falls Barrow resided. According to the calculations I had been keeping, that sign clocked the hour somewhere in the mid-morning. I had already been working at the mill with Faendal for about two hours when three dark and wild looking figures walked into town.

The figures' walks were statements, they wanted the attention of everyone. On one side, there was a muscular Orc with a chipped tooth. On the other hand, an angry looking Khajiit with scar-adorned fur. Both were terrifying sights. However, somehow, the middle figure outdid them both. She was a Nord with hair too pale for her age. She had red warpaint on her cheeks and she wore a set of plate armor. I did not want to know whether or not the paint was actual paint, or fresh blood.

I nodded to Faendal as they entered the village and as we stepped onto the road in order to block their path. We were not well equipped for a fight. I merely had my woodcutter's axe in my hand and was wearing hide armor. Although, that term 'armor' is generous. Faendal did not even wear armor, yet he did have an iron arrow nocked and ready to fire.

There we were, five figures standing in the middle of a village. We soon became six when the Blacksmith, Alvor, stepped beside us with a great battle-axe in his hand. "What brings you to Riverwood, friends?" Alvor asked, intimidation dripping within his strong, Skyrim-Nord accent.

They approached us slowly, weapons undrawn. The pale-haired Nord considered Alvor for a moment before her sharp gaze turned to me. She nodded in greeting, but it was the Orc who spoke first. "We bring you greetings from Embershard Mine. This is Chieftess Kjolhild," he gestured to the woman in the center as he spoke in a gruff voice. "She rules these woods. That means she rules you too. She s'pects you to be willing contributors to our cause."

"And if we're not so willing?" Faendal broke in with audible spite, drawing back on his bow as far as his arm would pull. The wood of the weapon creaked from the immense strain.

"Then you will be contributors nonetheless," the Nord, Kjolhild, replied in a sharp tone. She had a deep and monotone voice, cold as the winds atop the mountains. "We will cleave through this town, leaving nothing but corpses and muts to eat them."

"What are your demands?" I responded in the calmest voice I could muster. A small crowd had formed around the town, watching us all with held breaths and stopped heartbeats.

"Twenty-Thousand gold pieces, three hauls of fish, and every weapon you have. You are under our protection now, won't have any need of those. You have a week." After her words were spoken, out of the brushes surrounding the town came a dozen more bandits, all with arrows trained on the three of us. "The big brute," she pointed to Alvor. "He looks like he could cause some damage with that battle-axe. We'll take him with us as insurance."

"No!" a voice from the crowd cried. It came from Alvor's wife, Sigrid. The young woman's pretty face was covered in dirt and soot from helping her husband with the forge. Tears had began to trail paths down her cheeks. "You can't take him away!"

She began to run towards them as two of the bandits grabbed Alvor by the arms. By the will of Talos, Hod was able to catch forcefully halt Sigrid. She screamed and kicked in his arms as the bandits left the town with her husband, but Hod held her firm. "Not now, woman!" he said. "We'll get him back. You count on that."

* * *

 **Dear Reader,**

 **It has been quite a while! College life is crazy but good. I have certainly been writing a lot, but next to none of it has been for enjoyment. So it's really good to get back to having some fun writing this story. This chapter is super short. I really wanted to put something out there and leave it on a cliff-hanger so I have no excuses not to finish it. As usual, I hope you all enjoy. If you liked it? I would really appreciate it if you left a positive review! That would really help. If you have any other thoughts? Always feel free to PM me! Thanks again for reading, friends.**

~Kovecs


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